


if the moon smiled, she would resemble you

by kinpika



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All over the place with time, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know if this is going to be a catch all collection or just Dimileth things, Short bits and pieces, Spoilers, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-13 15:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: The world is not kind. But we are.





	1. life lines

There is.

The space between the two. Where his hands rest in hers, not even the slightest flinch with how she dabs at the cuts. Fine lines, crisscrossing over wear and tear and years. Each telling a little story of a place where she was not, and where he had been.

Dimitri does not flinch, as her fingers curl around his. Featherlight touch, the only sounds the movement of water and the shift of armour. Not even the sound of breath, caught between them, as he watches the furrow of Byleth’s brow, the hard line of her mouth. There are thoughts, dangerous ones, angry ones.

As she turns his hands over in hers. Traces along the backs, towards his wrist. Where the armour no longer fit, pulled too tight, as he had starved and survived and lived at the brink. A brush of her skin, no pulse, under the tips of his fingers. A reminder, of how they both were lacking life. That perhaps this was not real.

Byleth only pulls away, to find bandages. Material drawn tight over his hands, hiding the cuts away. Pulls his hands towards her lips, and a brush, over his knuckles, as she looks up at him. The slightest shift in muscle, a plead, do not do it again. Do not throw yourself in the way again.

His shuffle forward is awkward, and the shadow he casts is long. Yet Byleth buries herself in him, against the worn armour and the fading cape. Arms around his neck, and there is no longer space between. Not when he holds her, closer now, finding warmth that seeps into his skin.

Dimitri knows he cannot promise her what she demands. And, they both know, she knows that too.


	2. broken walls do not hold us back

The world does not whisper for the two.

No great leap, no love. Trapped in the crumbling tower and the lingering memories, that fly underneath fingertips. For her, this was months past. Where she can build, in her mind’s eye, exactly how many cracks sat in the brick, scratch the mortar with her nail, find the carving in the corner, third from the bottom up. Neat and lined, a reminder, yes please.

But the wind howls through now. All that is left is an empty hole, wiped out and long gone. Much like what remains of the shadow that follows, waiting for this to all fall away. For the truth to be revealed, and the blood to stop.

This does not stop Byleth, not at all. And she may argue, quietly, aside, that her heart does not beat, so she cannot bleed. And he may call her a spectre, just for that. Dimitri so sure and stalwart, voice never wavering, even as his footsteps are far too heavy. Trying to break at the image of her.

So they play the game, losing themselves to sounds and steel and the growing cold, digging at arms and huddling under the broken walls. Counting down the seconds, for when the wind would stop howling, for when there would be no more.

No more of what? Byleth does not ask that question, for she is afraid of what the world may answer. When she turns to look, up, at where that Tower once stood, where a promise once lay. She does not want to hear the words, as Dimitri sleeps beside her.


End file.
